


Warming Up

by eeyore9990



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Scent Kink, Wet Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 05:27:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2055405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles shows up at Derek's loft, dripping wet and freezing.</p>
<p>**</p>
<p>Because everyone needs more wet!Stiles in their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warming Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Valress (Val_Brown)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Brown/gifts).



> Valress prompted wet, cold Stiles in a gorgeously inspiring ask back in MAY. Because of stuff and things, I just finally got around to finishing it. Sorry for the delay, bb! Hope it was worth the wait. *kissy face*
> 
>  
> 
> Caution: This is so not beta read. I'm sorry! But I realized yesterday that I've posted nothing at all this month (visiting family has really cut into my writing time) and I really don't want a calendar month to go by without posting something. That becomes a really bad habit for me.

Stiles’ lips were a purple blur and if his teeth chattered any harder, they’d shatter in his mouth. Derek sighed, scrubbed at his sleep-crusted eyes with the heel of his hand and slid the loft door fully open…but Stiles just stood on his doorstep, unmoving but for the shivers that shook his entire body.

A bead of water dripped from his sodden hair and slid slowly down his forehead, over the curve of his nose, and gained momentum before launching itself at his trembling lips. Which were still purple.

"Are you coming in?" Derek asked, voice still sleep-roughened.

"D-d-dripping."

Derek shrugged and turned away, listening to the squelching of Stiles’ feet inside his shoes as he finally stepped into the loft and closed the door. “You know where the towels are,” he said, then, pricked by curiosity, followed Stiles to the bathroom.

"So are you going to tell me what happened?"

Stiles dragged a towel off the shower curtain rod — the one Derek had used just an hour or so before to dry off after his shower. “J-jeep broke d-down on Main.”

Derek’s mouth went dry as Stiles fluffed the towel briskly over his head and neck, rubbing Derek’s scent into his skin until the combination of their scents filled the air. Shifting his feet, Derek dropped his gaze to where Stiles’ shirt clung to his chest. Then yanked it right back up when he noticed the way the thin, soaked material of his t-shirt peaked over the tight buds of Stiles’ nipples and delineated every ridge of his chest.

For all that Stiles liked to call himself skinny, he was in actuality packed with lean muscle. Which Derek had spent far too much time noticing in the last year. Or two.

Distracting himself, Derek scoffed sarcastically, “The Jeep? That marvel of 1983 technology? How is that even possible?”

"Fuck you, wolf boy. That Jeep has saved your ass more than once." Stiles threw the towel at Derek, hitting him directly in the face with it — Derek had been too distracted by the long finger Stiles was pointing at him to pay attention — and suddenly the wet combination of their scents was quite literally in his face.

Fucking Christ, it smelled good.

Derek broke free of the towel just in time to watch as Stiles peeled his wet shirt off his body. It clung to him, stuck to his chest and fought him every inch of the way, licking over his damp, cold skin until Stiles was free of the material. He dumped it into the bottom of the tub, then turned his fingers toward the button and zipper on his jeans.

No way could Derek’s sanity survive more of this strip show. “I’m just gonna,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, licking his lips as his gaze caught on the small patch of dark hair in the middle of Stiles’ chest, “get you some dry clothes.”

"Thanks, dude."

Derek stood in front of his dresser for a long moment, gripping the top as he gave himself a mental talking-to. His life did not need the complication of a … whatever … with Stiles Stilinski. And it wasn’t like his dick had a good track record when it came to picking out people to be attracted to.

Libido in check, he grabbed a t-shirt and sweats and brought them back to the bathroom, where the door was closed. Rapping on it with his knuckles, he waited until the door opened a crack before thrusting the clothes inside.

"Thanks," Stiles called through the door after shutting it again.

Derek grunted and went back to his room where he fell face first onto his mattress. He was almost asleep again when he heard the pad of damp feet across the wood floor and a quick burst of teeth chattering. Grunting, he rolled until he could pull the bedding from where it was bunched up beneath his hips, tucked his legs and feet under it, and then just held up the edge. 

Stiles didn't need more invitation than that.

"Jesus fucking _Christ_ , Stiles!" Derek hissed when Stiles' icy feet found his legs. Another wordless shout escaped him when Stiles burrowed closer, pressing his frozen fingers to Derek's stomach. 

"S-sorry," Stiles moaned, snuggling as close as physically possible. "God you feel good."

Derek bit through his bottom lip in an attempt to quell the surge of lust that shot through him at Stiles' words. 

"So warm," Stiles crooned. 

_Fuck_. Derek was wide a-fucking-wake now. With an irritated growl, he rolled to his back and manhandled Stiles until he was laying on top of Derek, his feet trapped between Derek's and his fucking cold nose buried behind Derek's ear.

"Oh holy shit," Stiles whimpered against the skin of Derek's neck.

Derek could only agree. What the fuck kind of idiot was he to give in to this impulse? Stiles was almost dry, would have been warm soon enough from just being in a warm, dry bed with Derek. There was no real _need_ to pull him physically closer ...on top of Derek ... hip to hip ... chest to chest. Derek sucked in a quick, quiet breath — through his mouth because his senses didn't need the added allure of Stiles covered in Derek's scent — and frantically ignored the way Stiles' hard little nipples pressed into his chest through the threadbare cotton of the shirt Stiles was wearing. Instead, he rubbed his warm, dry hands briskly over Stiles' back and arms, pointedly not dropping below Stiles' waist.

Derek had no idea how long it took, but eventually Stiles' shivering stopped, his heart rate resumed a normal rhythm, and his body relaxed, boneless and comfortable against Derek's. 

"Better?" Derek whispered, the sound overloud in the charged silence. He slowed his hands but didn't stop a languid up and down rub over Stiles' back.

"Y-yeah." Stiles' voice was hushed and filled with a heat Derek didn't want to think about too closely. His fingers slid from where they'd been trapped between them, up Derek's abdomen, to rest against his chest, burrowing through the hair there. 

Derek grit his teeth against the need to whine; he could no longer feel the tight points of Stiles' nipples against his chest. Stiles' fingers, though, more than made up for it, beginning to card through the hair, glancing occasionally over _Derek's_ nipples and causing his breath to catch every time.

"Derek," Stiles breathed, nosing through Derek's hair, lips catching against the lobe of Derek's ear. 

With a downward sweep, Derek's hands skimmed just to the top of Stiles' ass, forcing his hips to rock against Derek's. Pleasure shot through Derek when Stiles' dick, rapidly plumping up between them, bumped against his own half-hard cock.

"God." The low moan and Stiles' mouth moving over his ear sent a shiver through Derek. As the movement passed through him, Stiles stiffened, his fingers jerking almost painfully in Derek's chest hair. "I want this," Stiles said, his voice deeper, filled with an honesty that was too vulnerable even for a darkened bedroom. "You know I want this, but I can't be a regret for you. I can't be another person who took a choice away from you. So I need something from you. I need _you_ to want this."

Derek's heart stuttered, the lapsed beat almost painful in his chest before it sped up, something like panic filling him. It was better in the warm silence, when their actions could be put down to the heat of the moment. Or simple nature.

But to acknowledge it out loud invited in the demons, and it was at that thought that Derek froze, long enough for Stiles to breathe out an apology and climb awkwardly off the bed. Lightning from the storm outside lit the room, and the accompanying clap of thunder jolted Derek into action.

Sitting up, he grabbed Stiles' wrist, tugging him back toward the bed. But Stiles, as ever, was stubborn.

"Enthusiastic consent," Stiles said, planting his feet on the floor and refusing to be budged. "I deserve it. _You_ deserve it."

Derek opened his mouth to comply, but all that came out was a soft, needy little, " _Stiles._ "

Stiles put one knee on the bed, his hands sliding around the back of Derek's neck to cup his head, thumbs cradling Derek's jaw and fingers pressing into his skull. "It doesn't have to be much. Just a yes will do."

Derek's head lolled back, pushing into Stiles' grip. His mouth dropped open, eyes burning blue for a second as his lips and tongue formed the word _yes_. It was a plea so needy, Derek had to push forward, hiding his face against Stiles' chest in embarrassment. 

But as the tip of his nose brushed over the hard nub of Stiles' nipple through the thin cotton of the t-shirt — the same t-shirt that carried in its fibers a heady mixture of both their scents and made Derek's cock plump up even more — Derek forgot about hiding from what he wanted. Forgot about holding back. Instead, he surged forward with intent, arms wrapping around Stiles and twisting until they were rolling on the bed once more.

Stiles flipped them until he was once again on top, his breaths coming in sharp bursts as he choked on words. "Wait, let me…" 

There was a short scuffle, Derek keening wildly as Stiles pulled away from him — where was he _going_ , come _back_ — and then Stiles was naked from the waist up, his chest pebbled with goosebumps and his nipples so dark and tight in the weak light that filtered through the rain-covered windows. Derek stared at them, feeling himself losing control as his fangs pressed against the insides of his lips. But the scent of Stiles' arousal spiked again, so Derek just opened his mouth, tongue reaching past his elongated canines to play with the nub of flesh he'd already sucked red.

"Fuck, _fuck_ , yes, Derek. Please, oh my god." Stiles' fingers were twisting through his hair again, pulling and pushing mindlessly while his hips curved and rolled against Derek's, teasing them both to the point of chafing. 

Derek growled and dropped his hands from Stiles' flexing back to his hips, stilling them long enough to tug down Stiles' sweats and get a hand wrapped around Stiles' hot, flexing cock.   
"Oh my fucking god, Derek," Stiles keened, stomach muscles bunching where Derek's knuckles were scraping over them as he twisted his hand up the slick, dripping length of Stiles' cock. "I've thought about this so much. Wanted you so much. Want your dick in my ass, splitting me open. Want to taste you down my throat."

A sob broke free of Derek's throat and his teeth pressed against Stiles' chest, dimpling the skin around his nipple. His hand spasmed, clutching Stiles' cock until Stiles' short, blunt nails raked down his back. His whole body flooded with desire because yes, he wanted all of that too. Wanted his cock down Stiles' throat while he was himself choking on the pretty pink dick swelling so beautifully in his hand. Wanted to hold Stiles down and eat his ass for hours until he was loose and sloppy enough to take Derek, until he was a limp mess on the bed, tears of overstimulation wetting his splotchy-red cheeks. 

Derek could see it, taste it, _feel_ it. He wanted all of that and so much more. Wanted to be the one gripping the headboard, claws digging into the thick wood and scoring it as Stiles rammed home inside him. Wanted to press his chest to the mattress while Stiles' long, slim fingers played with his ass, pulling him open as hot words spilled from Stiles' lips. 

Because of course Stiles would narrate every moment of fucking Derek, beginning to end. 

" _Derek_." Stiles' broken whimper pulled Derek's head out of his fantasies and back into the moment. From the way Stiles was fucking into the tight grip of Derek's fist and the quickening of his hitched breaths, he was close.

Tightening his free arm around Stiles' back, Derek let his fingers skate down the knobs of Stiles' spine until they were slipping between the globes of his ass, middle finger brushing purposefully against the tight, twitching rim. Derek turned his head, teeth scraping against Stiles' earlobe. "I want to feel you come for me."

The words barely had time to leave his mouth before Stiles' breath punched out of him as his cock swelled in Derek's grip. His nails broke the skin of Derek's back, and his whole body shook and shuddered, trembling through an impressively long orgasm. 

As soon as the last drop bubbled over his fingers, Derek reversed their positions, shoving his come covered hand into his underwear and carefully untangling his cock from the slit of his boxers. He'd have to remember to be embarrassed later at how quickly he gets to the cusp, just the feel of Stiles come slicking his cock and the sound of his exhausted voice urging Derek on enough to push him to the edge in three strokes.

But it was the sight of Stiles' face, the open, plump lips, the slitted eyes gleaming at him in the dark, that did it for Derek. He jerked forward, almost toppling onto Stiles as he stripped his dick, long pulses of come splashing down onto Stiles' chest and abs. 

After Derek shuddered through the last gut-cramping pulse of his orgasm, he fell forward, face buried in Stiles' neck as he tried to remember how to breathe again. Stiles' fingers carded through his hair, calming him and guiding him back to earth.

"We should get cleaned up," Derek rumbled, barely able to get his mouth working enough to form words.

"Yeah, dried come in chest hair is just gross, dude." Stiles shifted beneath him, then pinched Derek's side when he asked, voice accusing, "Are you _preening_?"

Huh. Apparently he was. Derek just kept grinning into the side of Stiles' neck, unrepentant.

"Well," Stiles sighed, relaxing under the bulk of Derek's body as his voice got slower, colored with exhaustion. "M' not cold anymore."

Derek just snored at him in response.

**Author's Note:**

> FYI: Getting dried come out of chest hair is way more fun with a shower partner who has the same problem.
> 
> (I assume. I don't actually have this problem myself, lol.)
> 
> Also, I'm on [tumblr](http://tumblr.com/eeyore9990).


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